The Call of the Mountains of Madness
by strixvanallen
Summary: Prof. William Dyer is dragged again to the city of the Elder Things by crazy pilot Maarten Van Helsing in a bizarre rescue mission.
1. Chapter 1 - The Crazy Pilot

**The Call of the Mountains of Madness**

**or**

**Why I should have stayed home**

**A tale of Horror, Despair and Human Stupidity**

**featuring a bunch of scientists and a crazed military pilot**

**by**

**Prof. William Dyer, Head Geologist from Miskatonic University**

I was in the library of Miskatonic University, the place in which I've taken some of the worst decisions in all my life. As for why I was there, well, the life of an Arkham citizen can be very straining, and I was still learning to cope with the results of my doomed Antartic expedition, so, I went there seeking a relief. I liked the sugar-coated ladies' romances, they had the same effect to my sanity as a painkiller. Naturally, I couldn't borrow the book because I didn't want to give Armitage a written proof for him to blackmail me into paying my debts for late books, and because my grad students respected me as a dark and brooding figure, broken by the madness I found in the accursed ice. I didn't have the heart to shatter this image.

The struggle of Lady Catherine to be respected by Lord Maurice had me so invested that I didn't notice the shadow looming over me. Fortunately, this didn't end with an angry librarian kicking me out of the forbidden section, but with someone politely coughing to grab my attention.

I froze for an instant, praying that the person didn't have read the title of the book. To my relief, it was a young man, but not one of my students. He looked like a freshman and, other than a hair of a peculiar red clay soil color, he didn't have anything remarkable on his appearance. He did look a little… off… but I couldn't put my finger in what caused me this impression. I felt that, given the chance, he would bite half of my face off, but that wasn't specially remarkable. I mean, I have some students from Innsmouth in my classes. Frankly, I don't know why we still accept those rascals.

"Are you Professor Dyer?", he asked, eagerly. He had a British accent, with a curious dash of a Germanic intonation. Clearly not a student, unless we suddenly became world-wide famous by something other than our high student mortality rate.

I nodded and apologized for not remembering him. He grinned, showing a disturbingly sharp row of teeth, and answered:

"Don't worry, we've never been introduced. Maybe you've heard about my grandfather, he is somewhat famous. I'm Maarten Van Helsing. Grandpa Abraham visited Arkham thirty years ago, or so. I don't know if you've heard about that case. Kingsport. Violent killings. People with a weird disease. Old doctor swinging a giant hammer and being followed by a much younger couple. Dr. Armitage scolding two twelve-years-old children that thought it was funny to sweep random books from their proper shelves..."

Things slowly got back to me. I was finishing my PhD at that time and was at the library making some final research for my thesis when the aforementioned old man with a hammer arrived and greeted Armitage. It was a dark time, in which people that came out at night couldn't be sure that they would come back home safely. Something was terribly wrong at Kingsport and the thing started to affect Arkham (because of course it would). But the most eldritch and incomprehensible thing that happened at this occasion, something that will haunt my nightmares until the end of the time, was the unnatural sight of Armitage's smile. When he saw his old friend, he smiled _broadly_, probably for the first time in years, and it was truly unsettling.

This probably explained why someone that isn't a Miskatonic student could not only enter the forbidden section, but also speak aloud in there without being shushed by those assistant librarians that pop out of nowhere. I shook his hand, still curious with his purpose in talking to me, and we exchanged some pleasantries. Still grinning, he said something that bothered me at the time, I didn't know why:

"Arkham didn't changed much since the last time I was here. I know I was just a boy, but I still remember how much I liked here."

One or two more exchanges and his face became a little more business-like. He waved a book at me and asked bluntly:

"Did you had anything to do with that, or it was solely a work from this Lovecraft man?"

It was the little brochure that had bothered me so much by the last few months. I'm not a very good writer, and I didn't trust myself in being able to convey all the horror that my expedition saw in the cold winds of the Antarctic. I needed someone talented and, more importantly, someone _cheap_ to help me with the task. Just like I'm doing right now.

Note to self: do NOT read the final product of this second attempt at an auto-biography. Nothing good will came from this.

But I digress. It's unfair of my part to mistrust the brave and valorous writer that is taking notes of my case. He will not put words in my mouth when I'm not looking. Not a chance of this happening.

AHEM!

Back to those those days, I was running out of options and soon would have to resort to writing the thing myself and asking for Armitage's merciless revision. Enter that guy that was always snooping around in Arkham, to find new things to write. We met at the library and, as always, I made the terrible decision to let a horror writer write a serious scientific warning. You know, if I was any good at sensing my impending doom, Danforth would not be mentally scarred by now.

…Are you giggling? I'll look for another person to write this down. Hmpf!

Anyways, it turns out that everyone thought that Lovecraft just wrote a romanticized version of my expedition, and I would look even more crazy if I insisted that this was the truth.

I don't know why I trusted that young man so much that I explained all of this to him, I just did it. He heard everything very seriously and nodded once or twice as I spoke. Then, he said the fateful words:

"Good. Enough of beating around the bushes. You are probably wondering why I'm here. It's simple. I'm here on business. I represent the Starkweather-Moore Expedition and we want to hire you as a guide."

Things were about to get ugly.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Call

First, I stared at him. Then, I may have snapped a little. Only a little. Actually, I snatched the brochure of _At the Mountains of Madness_ from him and slapped his face with it. Just a calm and totally justified reaction.

I also may have shouted at him, asking if he had READ THE DAMNED BOOK or something like that. It's hard to remember clearly the things you say when you are filled with blind and unbridled rage.

Armitage in person appeared for an instant among the shelves. His raised eyebrow remembered me that he had allowed his old friend's grandson to break one or two rules, but he wouldn't go easy on an unrepentant sinner like me. Much calmer, I released the young one's collar (I didn't notice that I had grabbed it) and asked him, in a steady voice, why he thought that he could convince me to go back to that frozen hell.

Van Helsing didn't look offended or scared by my outburst. Mildly amused was closer to his reaction. He talked to me calmly:

"I'm so sorry, Prof. Dyer. I didn't mean to offend you, I just couldn't resist the temptation to do some drama. It's true that the Starkweather-Moore Expedition hired me (or, more precisely, that I pestered them until they allowed me to be a volunteer), but it doesn't mean that I don't agree with you that it's dangerous. I'm here because _I believe you_. And because it's clear that the expedition is too well funded and motivated to be stopped, so, the best way of protecting it is going with them and acting when time is due."

I know that, at this point of my life, I should be grateful that at least one stranger believed my story and was trying to do something. The thing is, life had made me too cynical. I couldn't see how the boy could be serious. I asked him incredulously if he was so insane that he had felt the urge to act simply by reading a horror tale. His reply made me feel a chill down my spine:

"Of course I didn't, sir. I was compelled to act because I received a call. _A call from these very mountains of madness that you describe so vividly._ Tell me, Prof. Dyer, what do you feel when you remember your time there? Can you still feel the terrible winds that fly through your face like a million daggers? Can you still hear an unnatural musical sound in the winds, going up and down like it's desperate? Can you still feel like half-articulated _voices_ are shouting your name in the back of your head? Voices that you are pretty sure that no one else could hear?"

That brought to me all the feelings that I was repressing since my return. I couldn't help but feel all the fear and all the doubts I had there. It was like I was back at Lake's camp, with bodies, blood, green ichor and this hellish musical wind all around me. But what startled me even more in the lad's speech is that I had told no one about the voices. "Voices in my head" was a line that I didn't want to cross while telling my story to the Lovecraft fellow. How could he know…?

I didn't have to say my question out loud. As soon as our eyes met, he explained:

"I dreamed with these things. A frozen waste, a gargantuan city of stone, winds that sing and pipe and voices in the back of my head, half-forming my name. But it wasn't a common dream. Tell me, have you ever heard about the Dreamlands?"

Of course I had heard about the Dreamlands. Everyone from my class had heard about them. Carter wouldn't shut up about them. He was that kind of person that _will_ tell you his dream, want you or not. At least, his dreams were always creative and weird, instead of the standard I-was-nude-before-a-crowd. I had also read about that place in the books of the forbidden section of the library. Remember when I said that all of my worst decisions were made there? I still can't understand what trick of mind made me think that reading the Necronomicon and his "friends" was a good way to spend a leisure afternoon.

The Dreamlands is a dimension in which you can enter through an astral projection when you are sleeping. You can also create new locations on these lands by the force of your thoughts. It is a dimension with its own inhabitants and natural laws. That much, I knew. I also knew that not every human being was able to enter there. I, myself, never saw a hint of it during my dreams.

Van Helsing nodded to the things I said and went on.

"Great. You know the basics. I'm a dreamer. Not a very good one, since I'm banished from the places that those pesky priests guard, but I can explore the parts of the Dreamlands that are closer to the Waking World – you can call them the Upper Dreamlands – and also Nodens' Abyss.

Long story short, I got lost. I was trying to get to the Upper Dreamlands and ended inside a stone building. When I peeked through a window, I saw a land covered in snow. Voices were trying to communicate with my mind. When I finally understood them, they told me their tale. It wasn't that much different from what you could deduce in this book.

These two voices were from an old race that lived in the Earth eons ago. You called them "The Elder Things" in your book. Eight of them woke up from a deep slumber to meet strange beings that made a hellish sound and attacked them. Confused and afraid, they slew the beings and just then could cool their mind enough to understand where they were. Soon, it dawned to them that they were in the same place in which they fell asleep: just outside their city. Then, they hurried to the place, just to discover that much more time passed than they could foresee. They made everything they could to find their race, not wanting to admit that they were alone.

Then, shoggoths happened. You know the deal. Four were killed right way. The other four ran as fast as they could, but two were cornered. The remaining two would be killed, too, if it wasn't by a distraction that put the shoggoth out of their tracks: two weird 'simian-like' beings that screamed in the caves.

Thanks to that short diversion, they could hide in a safe room, but it turned out that this room was more like a prison. The shoggoth gave up on looking for them after a few days, but at that point, they had already collapsed under their millennial hunger. Their bodies are paralyzed by now, almost frozen again, only their minds are still active, still trying to escape."

I had held my breath when he was talking and only noticed it when he paused. I took a deep breath, and he did the same. I thought that he would talk many things yet, but he merely added:

"And that's why I'm going with this Antarctic expedition. I want to free these poor things. I also believe that there is some kind of anomaly in the Antarctic that is making a giant portal between the Waking World and the Upper Dreamlands, where this version of the Leng Plateau really is. If I can find and destroy this anomaly, this accursed place won't be reached by humans of our world anymore. At least, not when they are awake. To do this, I have to be quick and precise. That's why I need you. You were there, you know the place better than me. Will you go with me? Will you answer the call of the Elder Things?"

What could I answer to that? It's true that, for an instant at the beginning of our conversation, the young man had reawakened my old fears and traumas, all the primal feelings that sometimes would make me wake up in the middle of the night and shout. But this call to adventure was different. It brought to me a feeling that I thought that was lost. It was a feeling of wonder and reverence that the incredible old city of the Elder Things inspired me. That ardent curiosity that made me drop the common sense and explore the place even with all the warnings that it was a bad idea. I wanted to see an Elder Thing. I wanted to talk with them, I wanted to hear the wisdom of beings from a civilization that was already old when mankind didn't even exist.

Again, I didn't have to say anything to Van Helsing. I offered him my hand and he shook it with a bright smile. As he went out of the library, he added:

"The expedition sets sail in one week. I'll be waiting for you."

I was feeling high and inspired. Then, I fell all the way back to Earth, as I discovered what was bothering me in that young man. It's that he wasn't a young man. He was a twelve-years-old child when his grandfather visited Arkham, _thirty years_ ago. _How could he look like a twenty-something?_

It would be a long journey.


	3. Chapter 3 - The mountains

Despite the fear that started to lurk in my soul since I had noticed the discrepancy between Maarten Van Helsing's appearance and real age, our travel to the Antarctic continent was mostly uneventful. He greeted me and, in the first night, locked himself in his cabin and warned us that he shouldn't be bothered until we arrived at our destination. Most people in the expedition didn't see him for the rest of the trip.

One night, I saw the first icebergs showing. At this point, I could remember how the scenery looked like a Roerich painting, but that Lovecraft man kind of spoiled the fun after repeating the comparison for about a hundred times. I was smoking on the deck, trying to ease my wrecking nerves.

"Blimey!", I heard someone saying this and some other less polite things. "I thought that everyone was already sleeping!"

It was Van Helsing and I felt another chill when I saw him. He was ghastly pale, his hair was grey and dull and he was unhealthily thin. He was clutching a bottle, and his unsteady legs made me think that he was drunk. When he got near me, tossing himself on the rail, however, I had to admit that I didn't smell any alcohol.

"I'll never hibernate again" he went on. "Waking up is like being born."

I could offer no response besides a stammered "Hibernate?". He looked at me puzzled. "Yeah, hibernation. Y'know the deal, you overfeed and sleep."

I reminded him that people don't hibernate and he simply let a "blimey" out again. He let some minutes pass. When I thought that our conversation was over, he chuckled and said, like he had never made a pause:

"Heh. I miss grandpa. He would be crazy if he saw me slipping that hard in front of stranger. Who would know that human beings don't hibernate. Seems like something so basic. He died a couple years ago, my grandpa. Not fair. He was a great man. A merciful man. Gave my father a chance that others wouldn't give. He gave him a new house, a new name, a new personal story. It's a shame we aren't related by blood. But I got to keep his name alive, and it's something. I even named my son Abraham. Abraham Van Helsing II. Cool name, huh? He is a cool kid. Bookish like grandpa. I have two others, Rachel and Lawrence. Cool kids, too. Y'know who else is cool? You. You are."

At this point, he stopped blabbing and stared me hard for some seconds. Then, he straightened himself and retreated to his cabin, waving the bottle in his hand and saying:

"Gosh, I'm acting like I'm drunk. I guess those things fermented when I was sleeping. By the way, I had a slight change of plans. We'll discuss it when I'm safe enough to be around people."

This 'slight change of plans' sounded a bit ominous to me. It almost distracted me for the fact that he referred to 'human beings' with way too much detachment. _Almost_.

We arrived in the Antarctic continent shortly after this. Despite his slender body, Van Helsing put everyone to shame, when it came to carry the crates of equipment. He looked fresh and young again, and I tried not to think about it too hard. Prof. Starkweather couldn't help but notice that humongous crate that he handled alone. When asked, the youth (and I still call him "youth" because he looked like a perfectly normal 20-years-old) shrugged and said that the crate had "Prof. Dyer's sciency stuff".

I cornered him later to ask what my 'sciency stuff' really was and he answered that half of it was food for the Elder Things. They were starving for entire geological periods, after all and would need everything we could provide. I just wish that I had resisted the urge to ask for the other half.

"Dynamite", he answered, with a tone in his voice that added an 'obviously'. My shock must have shown because he added: "Don't worry. I'm a trained soldier. Granted, I'm a pilot, but I also had a good land training. I know how to blow things up very well."

Unable to answer him properly, I only mumbled a terrified "why". He raised his eyebrow, again with that "obviously" attitude that was starting to become offensive. When he answered, his voice sounded almost bored:

"We will have to destroy the anomaly that is creating the passage to the Dreamlands. I won't punch it until it breaks. Oh, and about that…"

He pulled me to a calmer corner and explained:

"During my hibernation, I wandered into the Dreamlands, trying to reach the Elder Things' Leng again. It took me longer than I thought it would, and I didn't even use the same portal. After a more thorough search, I noticed something a little… troublesome. I could sense more or less the direction of the anomaly, though I couldn't see exactly where it is. The thing is, after we destroy it, we will never be able to make it out of the Dreamlands before the portal closes. The anomaly is too far from the portal."

I shuddered at the thought. "What do we do, then?"

"That's what I spent the rest of my hibernation planning. There are a few exits from the Dreamlands to the Waking World. I got a deal with a king that has maps of those exits. His grand-uncle knew my grandfather, so he was willing to talk to me. Long story short, he will lend them to us if we show him the Elder Things. He is tremendously curious to see them."

"What if we fail?" I asked, still unsure.

"We will have to find the exit for ourselves." He shrugged. "I know a place that touches the Waking Word in many points. The only problem is that it's insanely dangerous to get there. We have to try all the other options first."

It was not like I could give up at that point. I tryed to appear brave and shrugged. "Let's hope for the best."

"That's the spirit!" He slapped me so hard on the back that I felt my lungs squeezing my heart. "I knew you would be one of the good ones."

I didn't answer to him. The expedition was starting to move.

I'll spare the reader from the many times that I almost gave up on everything and went back to home. Every turn and every landscape would give me the most frightful memories. Thankfully, the people on the expedition mostly left me alone. My nerves were a wreck.

One night, I was suddenly awakened by Van Helsing.

"It's time." He whispered. "Pick your things and let's go."

I was too sleepy to understand what he meant, by I complied immediately. Outside the camping, one of the planes was ready to fly. "What exactly are we doing?" I was still too slow to understand.

"We have to go ahead. We don't want the entire expedition locked on the Upper Dreamlands, do we? I assured that we will have enough fuel for this travel. Tomorrow morning, we will be too far away for them to do something."

"Wait, do you plan to fly at night? At _this_ night? I can barely see the plane, and that's because you are carrying a lantern."

"Not a problem for me. Now, let's keep the talk for the flight. Hop in!"

He didn't wait for me to climb the plane on my own and shoved me inside. When the engines started to work, I remember something important. "Hey, we will wake the entire camping!"

"Don't worry, I drugged them."

"You WHAT?"

"It was for their own well being, my friend. There wasn't another way to snatch a plane where no one is looking. If we lose the plane, I'll compensate them. Now, sit down and enjoy."

Unfortunately, I started to think that I was dreaming, or else I would have protested more to his methods. As things were, I let myself to be dragged by him to this strange adventure, in the cold and the darkness.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Well, not exactly 'beauty', but you understood."

When I opened my eyes, I half-expected to be in the campsite. It was a terrible shock to discover that I was inside a plane. I didn't want to believe that last night happened.

"You sleep like a corpse" he went on, not much tactfully. "Seriously. The plane isn't exactly silent and we had turbulence and rough winds all the way. This landing was far from smooth. And yet, you managed to sleep through all of this."

"Enough about my sleeping habits." I was a little grumpy after a bad night. "Where are we?"

"Almost there. The mountains are already visible, but I haven't the faintest clue of where Lake's camp should be or how can we pass the mountains and enter the Plateau."

The mention of Lake's camp made my heart accelerate. The drowsiness abandoned me. Almost whispering, I asked him: "Must… Must we go there?"

"It's not a must." He smiled reassuringly to me. "I just wanted a reference point. If you show me how you and Danforth crossed the mountains, that's enough."

I sighed with relief. The last thing I wanted was to be closer to those graves.

Van Helsing insisted that I had a good meal and I agreed that it would be wise. He himself was totally indifferent to food and I assumed that he ate before waking me up. While I had my breakfast, he simply drank something dark from one of his seemly endless bottles.

It was strange when we were ready to go. Both of us were conscious that we were entering a dangerous quest that would take us God knows where. We could die. We could be lost forever in another world. It was a momentous situation, and we felt that we should say something big and solemn before departing.

Unluckily, neither of us were good with words. After an awkward silence, we simply shook our hands and he said, smiling:

"Ready for adventure?"

The plane was high. Goodness, I didn't remember how high these mountains really were. The wind was strong and I was certain that I was hearing musical sounds. The déjà vu hit me with all its force. It was exactly like last time.

Up and up we were, with the wind piping even more madly and the strange voices starting to form on the back of my mind. Knowing what they were didn't help me in the least to bear them.

Madness. It was all coming back to me.

When we were about to cross the mountains that protected the accursed Leng, when the winds stopped the unnerving howling, when we could see the first signs of the plateau that waited ahead, I could finally hear in my mind, loud and clear:

"HELP US!"

I should have stayed home.


	4. Chapter 4 - The madness

The voices faded again as the plane crossed the range of mountains and reached a place where the winds didn't rage anymore. Even then, I had a nagging feeling in my head, as if it something was trying to get in. Yet, I still could feel overwhelmed by the Cyclopean city once more. It was so big, so alien, so _ancient_. Its towers and defaced houses were still there, stern and proud, despite all the decay. I still could see the bridges and the doors under the glaciation. For a brief moment, all my fear was transformed in pure wonder. I was back. After what I thought that would be a final goodbye, _I was back to this place_.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that Van Helsing was trying frantically to get my attention without taking his hands off the controls until something hit me in the head. I didn't see where the object came from or how it was tossed so precisely on me, but whatever happened, it worked. I got myself together and answered the man.

"Phew. I thought you would never notice me. Sorry for your head." So, it _was_ him, after all. "Are you all right?"

I shrugged and explained the voices and the headache that followed it. He frowned and, for a moment, I felt my discomfort getting worse. Finally, he start talking again.

"Your mind is too closed. We will have to work on that later. First and more important, where should we land to reach the place where you found the shoggoths?"

This casual mention to the beasts made my blood cold for a moment, but I remembered myself to be brave. I perused the landscape, looking for the big tower that let Danforth and I escape. It wasn't easy. Four years are four years, and there were too many similar buildings out there. The whispers that were filling my thoughts and, sometimes, becoming full words, weren't helping.

In the end, I chose the landing point that seemed closed to my tattered memories. The plane landed smoothly and we finally did it. We set foot on legendary Leng.

The first thing that my partner did was to pick a big sled in the plane. I'm not phrasing it wrong. He carried it like it weighted nothing and strapped the dog harnesses to himself. I could only ask what he was doing.

"It wouldn't be wise to defrost the Elder Things in enemy terrain." He explained, calmly. "We will have to transport them out of there. The sled will do the trick. Which one of those buildings we have to enter?"

I focused as hard as I could and pointed a ruined tower nearby.

"Good", Van Helsing nodded, approvingly. "But before we enter these buildings, we have to solve your mind problem. It will be useful if we have a way to speak without words, for we will have to be as silent as possible. Since you don't have much telepathy prowess, I'll have to wire your mind on mine, so I can receive the psychic waves and retransmit them to you."

I didn't lose my time questioning him about that. To the hell with the telepathy and the physics (or rather metaphysics) behind it. It was far too late to be bothered by this thing. I simply asked him how he would do it.

"Oh, it's a simple procedure. I'll need a spoonful of your blood."

"…"

To be fair, it was not the weirdest thing that someone asked from me to complete some kind of magic ritual.

"Don't worry," he went on, "I'm a professional in bloodletting. I just need a tiny little bit of blood to be able to pick your mental waves right."

I could only sigh. "Right, right, go ahead."

"Thank you! Now, close your eyes for a moment. I don't want fainting at this critical point."

"Why would I… You know what, never mind. Just tell me when you are finished."

I closed my eyes and started to sweat. I felt he pulling my sleeves until my left wrist was exposed to the freezing air. He raised my arm a little and, for a split second, I felt my skin being pierced. The pain vanished almost immediately and I felt like I had a leech attached to that place. (In case you are wondering, yes, I already had leeches on me in one occasion and no, I don't want to talk about that.) A few seconds later, everything stopped and I felt a fabric pressing my wrist.

"I'm done. You can see the light of the day again, professor."

When I did it, I was baffled by the fact that he had no instruments with him, and even more baffled that actual leeches weren't employed. Instead, I felt a deep discomfort as I saw the small wound in my wrist and turned my eyes up again to see him licking a dark spot in the corner of his mouth.

"You didn't… you didn't… You did, didn't you?" I stammered.

He didn't pretend that he didn't understand me. "Drink your blood? Yes, I did. What else would I do with it here, in the middle of nowhere? Tasted like chicken."

Haha.

Anyway, I guess I found you. You are hearing me, right?

I answered him out loud until I figured that he wasn't moving his lips to speak. Then, I awkwardly tried to make the conversation in my mind.

You will hear _everything_ that I think?

I know you are trying to communicate, but I didn't hear you. Try to imagine yourself speaking normally, just don't vocalize the sound. I'm wired to your speech center. I'll only hear whatever you pretend to speak aloud.

_That_ was a relief.

Like _that_?

Yes, you are getting it. You just have to work a bit in your pronunciation.

My pronunciation. In telepathy. Haha. It was hilarious._ My pronunciation._ I started to giggle like a little girl. I guess I was starting to become hysterical.

Van Helsing, apparently, guessed the same thing, because his next words were spoken normally.

"Well, no need to fill your head with so much weirdness at once. Lead the way."

This sobered me at the spot. I was being a fool. A sudden development of telepathy was the least of my worries. Down there, in the dark tunnels of that dead city, formless monsters waited us. Fear. Madness.

I couldn't afford to become mad this early.

My friend was probably worried about my mental health, too, because he didn't rush things. We entered a tower that had breath-taking sculptures, in the best style of the Elder Things, all in epic and inspiring victory poses. My old interest by their history surfaced and I couldn't help but stop every few steps to look at one. My hands were aching to sketch them as the dim light of the torch passed by them, but the rest of my body was aching even more to run away.

I did a good job of forgetting where I was and what I was doing until we reached that domed room. Gedner and the dog were still there, covered, in the same corner we let them last time. Then, I froze there. I just… froze. I wanted to go away from there as quick as possible, but my legs simply refused to walk. Everything was so close, every memory of horror so vivid. If I had heard a penguin squeak at that moment, I would have screamed my lungs out and fainted.

Van Helsing had the patience of a mother. When he saw that, instead of walking, I was doing an awkward rocking movement, he urged me to continue. I wanted to do what he said, but couldn't. At this point, he shoved me on his sled and literally dragged me to the dark path that I didn't want to follow. If I was in my right state of mind, I would have rebelled, but as things were, I was barely able to stay quiet. I shut my eyes and kept them firmly like that.

Sitting on the sled calmed me down a bit. Yes, I was painfully aware that we were exploring that accursed tunnel that lead to the mysterious underground sea where the Elder Things lived in their last days. Danforth's desperate face haunted me each inch of the way and a strange murmur was forming in my head, but I couldn't understand any words.

At some point, we stopped and I felt a kind of gentle push in my mind.

Which tunnel do we take?

I let a deep sigh before opening my eyes. Everything was pitch dark, something that I didn't expect. I mean, Van Helsing should be using the torch to see the path, right? Suddenly, he himself seemed to be aware of my disorientation, because the small light was finally turned on. He tried to focus on the ground, but I still could see that the walls were covered with those crudely made dots that hinted so ominously of the presence of the dreaded shoggoths. Slowly, almost against my will, I turned my head to the ground in the front of the sled. We were in a fork with two possible ways of marching on. I didn't remember a thing about it.

We kind of followed the penguin droppings last time. I explained. I'm not sure which one is the right. If in doubt, take the descending path, since we were trying to reach the sea and it's deep underground.

Roger.

I closed my eyes again. Would we... Would we see again that place where I saw the beheaded Elder Things? I was trying so hard to forget this. It was the point when the horror started.

Everyone can imagine, then, how I felt when I heard Van Helsing "saying", in a emotional mental voice:

We reached a place with a enormous dark stain in the groud. It smells weird. I guess we are near.

I trembled. If I wasn't so paralyzed with fear, I would have run. As things were, my hands clasped the sled as I waited to feel the pungent smell of the Elder Things' blood. The smell never came. Odd. I thought that Van Helsing had just...?

There's another kind of smell here. He said, cutting the flow of my thoughts. It's faint, but not as faint as I hoped. Look, I know that being here is difficult for you, and if I wasn't bringing you on that sled, you wouldn't be there. Yet, there's no other way. I need you to open your eyes and tell me where the shoggoth came from last time. Don't fear. I'll protect you from anything, even if it costs me my life.

I feared that. It took me every ounce of courage, every bit of curiosity, every single shred of mental fortitude that I could spare to make me open my eyes again.

I was extremely proud of myself when I did. The vision of that stained - and empty - space on the ground and all the dark implications of that made my sanity wave for a moment, but I clenched my teeth, looked around and pointed the right corridor.

The young pilot put his hand on my shoulder with a reassuring smile and I felt a lot lighter. I wasn't brave enough to walk by myself, yet, but I was ready to do it with my eyes open. I informed my friend of that and he laughed and gave me the torch. It will make you feel more secure. It's all yours.

What about you? How will see the path?

He laughed and it was all the explanation I ever got, as he walked decidedly the pitch black corridor. I noticed that he would stop in every intersection, look to both sides, tilt his head and then follow one of the corridors with a new-found resolution. He kept doing this until we stopped at a partially collapsed wall. My heart almost stopped when he "said" in my mind:

We did it. They are behind that.

I was ready to ask how he knew when a gust of wind brought me the unforgettable smell of the Things. So, I jumped to my next better question:

How do we get in?

He sighed. Look, I've noticed a pattern in your actions. Every time you become too nervous about something… uh… unusual, your face suddenly relaxes and you simply don't make questions. Since I would like that you don't have a nervous breakdown while we are down there, I guess that we should avoid… uh…

I got it. In short, you want me to sit in a corner with my eyes closed as you do something that will probably shatter my sanity if I see it?

You're smart, that's why I like you.

Somehow, I didn't feel complimented by that.

I looked at the dark corridors, so dark that the light of the torch barely showed anything and gulped. In the beginning of our descent, I had kept my eyes shut, but it's because I felt oddly secure with Van Helsing near me, frail-looking as he was. Now that I knew I would probably be alone, the prospect of closing the eyes was frightening. I repeated to myself that it was so dark that it was almost like I had closed eyes anyway and went on with it. I still heard in my mind a warning: If you hear something, _anything_, tell me. It doesn't matter if it's just imagination, I want to know. Nothing big should be close, but warn me anyway.

After that, I heard a couple of steps, a strong breath and then, nothing. Silence was absolute and disturbing. I started to think of so many things and to remember so many things that I forced myself to stop. It wasn't helping. My priority was to keep myself _sane_.

I heard the faintest of the sounds and that startled me, but a immediate It's me followed that. The pungent smell became almost unbearable as a heavy "thud" marked something being dropped on the sled. I couldn't help but think Ugh, it stinks.

You tell me. my partner answered, giggling. Hang on a bit more. I'll bring the second one.

Now, I was both scared and curious. I wanted to see the Elder Thing. A complete Elder Thing, not a mangled corpse. Oh my God. If only I could open my eyes. But I couldn't risk it. What if Van Helsing was doing something too horrific? Blast it. I was almost opening the eyes when I heard footsteps and a Done. Hop in the sled.

His tone was different. It sounded so… serious. I opened my eyes and immediately looked to the sled, but, to my annoyance, the bugger had covered the Things with a blanket. When I finally focused the torch on the young man, ready to berate him, I was shocked. He was looking so pale and so _tired_. He was drinking something from a small flask, but it didn't seem to help him improving.

Ugh, it was much more tiring than I was expecting. Way more tiring. Those guys are enormous and heavy, I'm _starving_. We have no time to lose. Ride the damned sled, we have to get out of here _now_.

Why all this urgency? What's happening? It's… I trembled …them?

Shoggoths are the least of you problems if you don't get to the sled right now. Stop wasting time.

His voice became increasingly serious and commanding as he said that, and I could see the soldier he was for the first time. I obeyed and he pulled the sled even quicker than before. He did hesitate in any of the intersections, always quick and decided. All the time, he was ominously pale and refused to speak to me in any way about any topic. His silence and the morbidity of the place started to play on my nerves and, when I finally paid attention to myself, I discovered that I was muttering desperately that accursed verse: "the dead travel fast".

At first, I scolded myself. It wasn't time for Dracula quotes. I asked myself what would put it in my mind in the first place. Then I lighted the red hair of my partner with the torch, remembered his name and felt completely stupid for asking.

After what looked like an indecent short period of time, the light of the day shone again. We were out of the tunnels. We were free! And alive! And (presumably) sane! I felt great! Aaaand I also felt that it was a little too easy. Way to spoil the mood.

Van Helsing made a beeline to the plane, running desperately. I asked myself if I should follow him and see what he was doing, but then my good sense remembered me that I probably didn't want to know. Two minutes later, he went out of the plane again, cleaning his mouth and tossing a bottle aside. His appearance was healthier and he seemed in a bubbly mood again.

"Wow, I _was_ starving! What, didn't you raised the blanket yet, professor? I'm disappointed."

Now that the sled had my undisputed attention, I was excited again. I was about to see intact and living Elder Things. I would see their true aspects and, after we took care of them, I would see them _moving_. My heart raced.

The blank was lifted to show the creatures that poor Lake has described so well. They had tall barrel bodies with tentacles sprouting from each ridge, wings, a starfish-like head with a closed eye in each point of the star, a big starfish-like set of legs and smelled like rotten algae. Don't look at me like that. I'm a geologist, not a biologist. If you want an accurate scientific description, just read the transcription of Lake's report in At the Mountains of Madness.

As I marveled at the two specimens, my partner had assembled a pile of wood (don't ask me where he got that) and lighted it. He motioned me to wrap each of the Elder Things in a blanket. After we did that, he started opening food cans, one after another.

"They will be starving when they wake up and they are omnivores." He explained. "These guys are big; I won't feel comfortable if they don't have access to the food of at least four humans."

I shuddered at my repressed memories of Lake's camp and started helping him. When we were satisfied at how many cans were open and within reach of our guests, I inspected them again. Their skin already looked more shiny and elastic.

Van Helsing turned the sled to its side and put it in a safe distance from the creatures. We hid behind it, like it was a barricade, and waited for the fire and the sun to do their work.

I don't even know the name of the game of cards I was losing at when we heard a motion sound from the Elder Things. It was incredible. It was beautiful. The eye tentacles from both started moving. It was followed from movement of their many arm-like tentacles. So fascinating. I didn't know if I should feel wonder or terror and, for the first time in this crazy trip, I didn't care.

They stood up much quicker than I expected and waved their head and arm tentacles around, like they were confused. I could hear in my mind that my pilot friend was sending them calming thoughts, telling them to pick the food we left for them and relax. Everything was fine, now.

They followed the advice. When they stopped destroying the cans of food in their eagerness to eat, we felt more secure to reveal ourselves from behind the sled. By which I mean, obviously, that Van Helsing revealed himself and dragged me by the arm.

The Elder Things stood roughly 9 feet tall and their red eyes turned to us in which seemed to me a stern glance. If I hadn't emptied myself earlier, I would have done it in that moment. Then, they did a reverence gesture that I had seen in sculptures before.

Thank you, dream travelers. a strong voice echoed in my mind, ancient and alien. We waited for you for a long time, but our waiting was rewarded. I am Tilili and this is my companion Telili. I have not words to tell how grateful we are.

I heard a kind of grunt that, in a way, I knew that came from the Elder Thing in the back. It could have sounded menacing, if a feeling of gratefulness hadn't invaded me at that moment.

Now I wanted so much to touch them. Scientists are just big children, after all.

It's nice to finally meet you in person, my friends. I'm Maarten Van Helsing, who contacted you first, and this is Prof. William Dyer. He studied the ruins of the city… uh… last time you were unfrozen.

I just managed to wave nervously and Tilili mimicked the movement with one of its small sets of five tentacles. It was oddly cute.

Everything was so perfect that, in the back of my mind, I felt that something was about to go horribly wrong. Maybe the Things were feigning politeness to grab us and kill us. Maybe we were about to be devoured by giant shoggoths that could sprout out of nowhere. Maybe an Other God would zap us for our meddling with forbidding things.

None of these things happened. Not exactly as I pictured, anyway. As we were trying to find the next polite thing to say after the introductions, we heard a strange sound coming from the behind the sled, followed by a strong smell of mold. Van Helsing turned his back to us with a savage growl. He pointed a hand to the sled and curled his fingers a little in tension. I didn't understand what he was doing until he suddenly raised his arm.

Following his movement, a dark blob with green flickering eyes raised from behind the sled. It was small, probably would be the size of my knees if it was still on the ground. Also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, A FREAKING SHOGGOTH. Way smaller than the last one, but AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

Van Helsing was still growling like a rabid wolf when he twisted his hand. Then, a new voice joined the already crowded choir in my head.

VRHGGWQDICC… BRGUHHH… EEDRRGGH… SSSGGGRRR… SSOOOGGGTTT… SOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYY! I'M SO SORRY!

Wait, what?


End file.
